


don't be stupid

by Sedusa



Series: Dear Evan Hansen one-shots [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Baby Top Evan Hansen, Bilingual, Hotboxing, M/M, Marijuana, Tsundere Connor Murphy, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: “How was that? Tastes good, right?” Of course it didn’t. Weed tastes like shit. Yeah, some people learned how to appreciate it or whatever, but people also learned to appreciate eating ass. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still ass.Still, as predicted, Evan lied. “Oh, um, y-yeah, it’s really… minty.”“No, it’s not. I was lying. Stop pretending to enjoy things you don’t like.”





	don't be stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanceypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/gifts).



> I grew up in heavily bilingual communities, but it's been long enough since I left, and I only had the most basic understanding of Spanish at the best of times, that I likely fucked this up. Considering I wrote it in 2 hours I'm not that bothered, but, uh, sorry about that.  
> Also, Evan is brown here obviously, but he still has naturally blond hair. It's cute. He's cute.  
> Double also, [pulls out megaphone] EVAN HANSEN DID NOTHING WRONG.

“You're not supposed to—that's not how you take a drag, you dumb whore.”

 _Sappy_ wasn't a word one could use to describe Connor Murphy. Maybe he wasn't so angry anymore, but he was hardly in love with life ( _yeah, because you're in love with something else_ —he shoved that thought away, the sugary sweet tone nauseating if unfortunately honest). Still, it was hard not to feel a sense of monumental giddiness at the prospect of watching Evan pop another cherry. 

Evan twisted in his seat, holding a joint between his thumb and ring finger with all the precision and grace of a newborn foal. “I, um. I’m not really sure how you want me to do this?” His eyes went to Connor’s, then down, and then back up again. Connor snorted.

“Fine. Move over, I’ll help.” Connor gave him no time to adjust, invading his space with all the casual ownership of someone born to riches ( _overcompensating, aren’t you?_ ). “You have to breath it in completely. Not just in your throat, alright? Don’t waste my good shit.”

Connor took the joint from Evan’s clumsy pinch, holding it to his lips and _pulling_. Air vacuumed inward, a swirling vortex trapping in any smoke that tried to escape, down to the pits of his stomach. He held for one, two, three beats, before leaning over and trapping Evan’s mouth with his.

Evan’s eyes fluttered closed, but Connor kept his open. Every little twitch of Evan’s nose, or tug of the tongue, or catch of breath--he soaked in every second. _Hungry._ When they;d held on for long enough, he pulled away, and a string of interconnected smoke lingered before the coughing started.

He watched, bemused, as Evan’s virgin lungs protested such thorough violation. Tears streamed down his face (maybe he should’ve warned how strong the senation would be... but then again, there was something _cute_ about the way Evan flailed in surprise), and Connor listened to him wheeze his way to stable breathing.

“How was that? Tastes good, right?” Of course it didn’t. Weed tastes like shit. Yeah, some people learned how to _appreciate_ it or whatever, but people also learned to _appreciate_ eating ass. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still ass.

Still, as predicted, Evan lied. “Oh, um, y-yeah, it’s really… minty.”

“No, it’s not. I was lying. Stop pretending to enjoy things you don’t like.” Connor took another drag, and Evan obeyed his command to open his mouth, letting him transfer again. “Smoking is really gay at first. I’m still gonna make you do it though, you’ll get used to it.”

Every subsequent hit after that was done similarly. A good hour of hotboxing; Evan had a hard time talking between the coughing fits, so Connor was sure to fill both their ears with his normal bitching of the day.

“... and then she looked me dead in the eyes and asked what I was doing tonight. She lives here! She knows!”

40 minutes later, Connor’s hands waved about dramatically, accentuating his ever-present parent-inspired scowl, recounting Mrs. Murphy’s latest attempt at a breakthrough. “‘I just want us to be closer’--dude, I’m not _five_ , if she really wanted that she’d, I dunno, respect my agency as a person, or… something. Pisses me off.”

Evan giggled. He’d been giggling off and on at random moments throughout the conversation, a musical curve tracking the progression of his high. “Yeah,” he breathed and then, “ _Honestly_ , tu mamá es _mega bitch_.”

Connor blinked. Evan’s hands slapped over his mouth, a quiet squeal at his own brashness the only response he had to himself before his started laughing again. “Oh my God, I mixed up! Oh my God, I called your mom a _puta!_ ”

“Bitch, actually.”

“It’s the same thing!” Giggle giggle giggle. The corners of Connor’s mouth curved up as he watched Evan scrambled to compose himself--or at least stick to one language. “Am I high? Is this what high is being like? Cussing? Aw, crap, I’m gonna be so annoying--shit, I did it again!”

Well, this was decidedly cuter than Connor could’ve hoped for.

Evan shuffled closer. His hands still rested on his mouth as if trying to control his tongue, but his body seemed to move of his own accord, until he was half spilling into Connor’s lap. Connor cocked an eyebrow. “What’re you doing?”

“I just wanna, um. Touch you.” Evan reached out, and ran one hand down Connor’s chest. He reached the bottom of Connor’s jacket, and pushed under both it and the undershirt, his cold fingers curiously cupping thin stomach. “Fuck,” he breathed into the hand still at his mouth. “You’re really sexy.”

Connor’s cheeks tinged pink, and he struggled not to grin, holding firm his Resting Bitch Face instead. “Thanks,” he muttered.

And then Evan was actually in his lap. He’s so small; Connor’s legs are longer then his torso, yet somehow, he had _ways_ to make himself the center of the world. A mixture of possession and arousal guides his movements during moments like this, and Connor always finds himself swept along for the ride.

“No, seriously, you’re, uh. Really fucking pretty,” Evan unzipped Connor’s jacket, shoving it open and devouring the sight. “Like, look at you. Shit. Damn.”

“You’re… having a lot of fun,” Connor said, stupidly. Evan giggled.

“Is this what it’s always like? I just wanna, like… God why is your hair so _soft_?” Evan’s hand ran through Connor’s locks, nails gently scraping his scalp in ways that made Connor absolutely melt. “You should braid it. Why don’t you braid it? It’s fucking pretty!”

“I don’t… I don’t--fuck, Evan, that feels really good.” Connor bucked his hips against Evan. A coy giggle responded, as Evan shifted his weight in just the right way to deny Connor the contact he was suddenly desperate for.

“ _You_ feel really good.” He’d sectioned off a lock of Connor’s hair, pulling it into a tight braid with the speed and precision of someone who played hairstylist for their mom. “Hey, do you want me, to, uh, suck you off? I haven’t done that enough.” 

Connor squeaked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but, like, I want to.”

“Y… you do?”

“Well, duh. You taste _awesome._ Look, I’ll show you.” Evan was pulling away then, only to drop to his knees in front of Connor, who spent the next half hour struggling not to choke on air as he was strung along by his absolute tease of a boyfriend.


End file.
